Impropriety
by Ornamental Nonsense
Summary: Men were the problem, and Sibbi's wandering hands needed to be taught a lesson. To Oblivion with Mercer's orders to the contrary!


**Chronology:**

Winter in Riften

Learning the Hard Way

Taking a Sick Day

The Shadow's Reach

Impropriety

* * *

Steam swirled about the room, enveloping Prim as she sank into the tub. It was old and wooden, a few edges threatening splinters, but she didn't care. The water wrapped hotly around her body, and for a moment, she was content to sit and soak. Forget the soap or scented oil she'd bought for the occasion. It was enough to feel even a little clean after escaping Solitude and then running through the Rift as a werewolf, layers of grime having formed beneath her nails and in her hair. The dirt had left her desperate to bathe, and bathe she would, even if it was in the washroom of Haelga's Bunkhouse.

_"But Vekel has a tub."_

And why anyone would choose to bathe behind a curtain in the Ragged Flagon was beyond her. Delvin's words had not been reassuring in the least, the sly thief. Prim smiled and dunked her head underwater, surfacing to the smell of stew and the sound of conversation. It was early evening, and the Bunkhouse's residents were returning for supper, the cacophony of which filtered beneath the washroom's door.

It was a cramped room, and in the corner lay her clothing and boots. Day's receding light filtered through the high window behind her, the lantern beside her unnecessary, even as its flame danced. Haelga had warned her about possible peepers finding a stool and spying on her from outside, and she wondered if the woman secretly encouraged such behavior. Divines knew Haelga had practically winked at her while imparting the warning.

_Sounds like she has a visitor._

She was directly beneath Haelga's room, and footsteps creaked across the floorboards overhead. The woman's muffled laughter was just loud enough to hear.

"Prim?" She found her soap, and waited as Haelga's niece opened and peeked around the door. "Sorry to interrupt, but I think I should warn you..."

"Oh, come in," Prim motioned, hardly bothered to have another woman present while she scrubbed her arms. She'd bought lavender and honeysuckle soap as a treat for herself, and mint-scented oil for her hair as well. Not many people bothered with the oil practice here, and she'd mostly abandoned it herself, but being raised in Daggerfall had left its mark.

"I hope you aren't alarmed," Svana apologized, entering. The woman was pretty with blond hair and large eyes. In many ways, she resembled Haelga, but the almost bashful demeanor she currently bore was in complete contrast to her aunt.

"Is something wrong?" Prim queried.

"No. Well, yes." The woman lowered her gaze. "You see, my aunt has a visitor right now."

"I'd guessed as much. You don't need to worry about my sensibilities."

"Well, that's not the whole of it. This one visits every now and then, and sometimes he comes to the washroom when he's...when he's done. I don't know if he will or not today, but he doesn't exactly ask. He just sort of does whatever he wants."

"Sounds like a real ass," Prim laughed. "I can handle it, Svana. I'll throw my soap at his head if he dares to come in. How about that?"

"I don't know," Svana worried. "This one...he's very unpleasant."

Suddenly curious, Prim soaped her hair and contemplated the other woman. She knew most of the people in the city by name and face, if not personally, and wondered who this visitor was. Either way, she was certain she could handle the brute, and shooed Svana away with a smile. The woman was as cautious and conservative as Haelga was loose. Just how many men in Riften had slept with the Bunkhouse's owner?

_It's been a long time since you bedded someone._

Divines, she would probably be as skilled as a novice next time around. She hadn't been with a man since Cyrodiil, before coming to Skyrim. She'd considered Vilkas once or twice, but there was a woman in Whiterun whom he seemed to favor. She'd goaded him about approaching the woman and expressing his interest, but Vilkas never did anything until he'd was ready, the mule.

When had she last even touched a man in an intimate fashion? Well, this week, she suspected, but she didn't know with certainty. Her memory of the moments between killing dark elves and returning to Riften were foggy at best. She'd been naked in the snow, she knew, and Mercer's hands had been on her—her hips, arms, legs, struggling to hold her still and then swaddling her in his cloak. He'd smelled so damned good, and she could almost feel his stubble against her nose at the thought. What exactly had she done or said while being carried? The possibilities were somewhat mortifying since her animal side was unabashed about pursing what it liked, yet the guildmaster had given no indication that she'd acted strangely. Waking up in Riftweald, still wrapped in his cloak, was not something she was likely to forget.

Suddenly restless, she scrubbed furiously at her skin, as if it would clear her head of thoughts straying into dangerous territory. She could just imagine his hands running over her bare skin, caressing her, stroking...

"Divines," she cursed, resting her head against the bathtub. When had this happened? Letting the cantankerous man grow on her was one thing. Imagining his lips on her neck was another.

Footsteps overhead offered a welcomed distraction. Haelga's guest had finished his business quickly and was departing. His light steps were swallowed by the general banter outside, and she lost track of him almost immediately. A cautious eye remained trained on the door. She would not take kindly to someone barging in on her.

"Sir, please!" Svana's panicked voice sounded. "There's a..."

The door swung open, and Prim chucked her soap at the man's head. He caught it, but the slippery bar quickly escaped and spun across the floor. Prim didn't notice. She was too busy staring at the intruder, and cursed her luck a thousand times over. There, in the doorway, stood Mercer Frey in dark pants and a gray tunic.

"Master Frey," she flatly ordered. "Close the door."

He shut the door right in Svana's face, and Prim's frown deepened.

"I meant with you on the other side of it."

"You weren't specific enough."

She sank lower in the tub, hiding her breasts beneath the water. Mercer quirked an eyebrow and stared at her a moment before moving to a low table with a basin of water. He was fully clothed, thank the gods, but reeked of Haelga. His face had recently been shaved, the usual scruff missing as he bent and splashed water onto his face.

"Your modesty isn't worth a single coin," he commented. "I've already seen every inch of you."

"That's not the point," she retorted. "You can't just march in on other people's baths. Or do you visit Haelga so often that you have the run of the place?"

Her words were sharper than intended, and she internally winced. Mercer faced her with a slight smirk, eyes fixed on the waterline running across her chest.

"That's none of your concern," he coolly noted.

"I'm sure everyone will be thrilled if you incapacitate yourself with some disease."

His smirk grew, almost cruel in its tilt as he approached the tub. Prim held herself steady and lifted her chin, aware that he could see her body through the water. She even dared to lean back and rest her arms across the tub's rim, watching his eyes smolder as they danced over her.

"Is the water too warm, or are you blushing?" he taunted.

"Go bite yourself," she huffed.

He bent and retrieved her soap from the floor.

"Lavender?" he questioned.

"I like smelling clean. If you would be so kind," she quipped, holding out her hand. He regarded her upturned palm before striding away with her soap, back to the wash basin. "Where are you going with my soap?" she demanded. When his trousers dropped, she scowled. That bastard! He was facing away from her, granting her a clear view of his backside as he proceeded to clean himself over the basin. His was fit, the contours of his legs drawing Prim's eyes from his calves to regions of Mercer she'd never expected to see.

"I didn't realize you had a taste for expensive soap," he mused. "I should have guessed as much. Growing up in a wealthy Daggerfall family must have had its advantages. That _is_ where you're from, isn't it?"

"You sodding bastard," she growled. "I didn't buy that so you could clean your crouch with it." She glared at his backside, incensed. Of all the disrespectful, underhanded... "Mercer, I want my soap back. Now."

"Someone should have taught you patience," he replied, lifting and fastening his pants.

He carried the soap back to her and dropped it into the water. She felt uncomfortably warm as he stood over her, her recent view having been more than she'd seen of a man in a long time. She defiantly lifted the soap and ran it over her neck and shoulders, avoiding the tender wound that an arrow had so recently given her. Mercer seemed inclined to watch her, and she pretended not to care.

"Do you ever take it off?" he asked.

"What?" she questioned, confused.

He bent forward and touched the golden chain around her neck. The pendant rested low in the water, between her breasts, and dragged over her skin as he lifted it.

"I once kept it in my purse, but it's not safe there," she replied. "Too many thieves afoot."

He ran a finger over the metalwork, and then dropped it back into the water.

"I can steal it back whenever I wish," he spoke, dark and promising.

"Is that what you think?"

He gave her a condescending look, and then straightened, leaving her there to finish her bath. She watched him go with a glower. Was she really blushing that badly? She didn't want to know, and finished as quickly as possible. She would barricade the washroom door next time.

* * *

Sapphire was the only woman with whom Prim could discuss certain topics. She wasn't close enough to either Tonilia or Vex to request advice, and could only imagine rumors going around the guild if she did. She certainly couldn't ask any of the men for help, not even Brynjolf. She would be too embarrassed to admit her lack of experience in intimate matters, and couldn't imagine what advice she'd receive in reply anyway. The very thought of asking Delvin was enough to send her above ground and never come back.

"Have you never been with a man?" Sapphire asked, disbelief stamped on her face.

"Of course I have," Prim insisted. "I've been with quite a few over the years, but they were travelers at inns, and the last one was so long ago. For all I know, I wasn't even good at it! Maybe they just needed a quick roll in the hay while on the road."

They sat in a quiet corner of the Ragged Flagon, voices lowered for their ears alone. Prim periodically checked on the location of the other thieves, just to make sure no one was showing more interest than warranted. Dirge and Delvin were in conversation, and Vekel and Tonilia were slipping off together. All was well for the moment.

"How long ago was 'long ago'?" Sapphire queried.

"Before Skyrim," Prim shrugged. "At least two years."

"Hmm." The other woman looked thoughtful, even distant. "I'm not very experienced myself. After the bandits took me, I...I haven't had much luck with relationships, Prim. It's hard to even enjoy sex after what happened, although Rune is always gentle."

"You and Rune, huh?" she smiled. "I can see that."

"I'm not sure what you need to know if you've been with multiple men already."

"Well, what do men like? The ones I've been with didn't seem to require much."

"Most don't," Sapphire chuckled. "They see breasts and firm butts, and that's enough."

"I'm being serious," she muttered, staring hard at the tabletop.

"Alright, alright. I guess it depends on the man really. Some like it rough, some gentle, but I think they like it best when you can do either. It's definitely best when you don't just lay there. That's probably the most important thing, and it's better for you as well. Hands running along spines, touching, stroking, kissing. Throw yourself into it. It's the only way I feel anything," Sapphire quietly finished. "If I just laid there, it would be too much like..."

"I'm sorry," Prim offered. "I didn't think that asking you about this would make you remember any of that."

"It's alright," the woman scowled. "I can't let that rule my life."

They sat silently a moment, and Prim tried to recall the best experience she'd had with a man. There'd been that Imperial in Skingrad, all charm and insistence on running kisses over her body. She'd rather liked that about him, but not how rushed their encounter had been.

"Do you have your eye on someone?" Sapphire suddenly asked.

"No," she sighed. "I just...It's not right, you know? I've cut down all manner of beasts and lived to tell about it, but the sight of a naked man throws me off balance. That's how long it's been since the last time, and it's embarrassing. Akatosh have mercy, I'm a grown woman. Warriors shouldn't be bothered by something so trivial."

"The right man naked can throw any woman off," her companion grinned.

"Sometimes...sometimes I don't know what I'm thinking, damn it all."

The comment delighted Sapphire, who took to laughter.

"It can't be all that bad, whoever has you worked up," the woman insisted. "Is it Brynjolf? Prim, you can't let the man's behavior bother you. It's his habit to pick out the prettiest, sweetest women in town and make them blush until they can't take it anymore. He's good at that—the whole flirting game. But he hasn't been serious about anyone in awhile."

"Oh, I like Brynjolf," she explained. "I mean, he's funny and kind, but I don't know. He's easy on the eyes." Sapphire hummed in complete agreement. "But I've never thought about us like...like that. I think he's a bit busy with that new woman staying at the Bee and Barb."

"The one in the mage's robes?"

"That's her. He's been working the famous Brynjolf charm on her. He looked a bit unhappy when she left yesterday. He owes Delvin money on that one, I think."

"Yes, well he thinks the world of you, in case you haven't noticed. I don't know if he means anything more by it, but I'm pretty sure that he'd be downright miserable if you left. _But_," she enunciated, "it's not Brynjolf."

"Not Brynjolf. Not anyone, Sapphire!"

"But you think that maybe you'd like someone."

Maybe it _was_ time that she took up with a man, even just for one night. She thought back to her bath, and replayed the event through her head. She would never get Mercer Frey's naked backside out of her mind. Then again, she wasn't sure that she wanted to. Cursed, filthy divines, but t_hat_ was the real problem. Maybe she just needed to find herself someone to replace the image now so ingrained in her skull. She was still a little annoyed about the guildmaster having used her soap.

"Don't worry, Prim," Sapphire reassured her. "You've got a great body. There are plenty of men who'd like to call you theirs. I've caught them staring at you on the streets. If you think a man might be interested, he probably is. Just be careful about the possessive ones. They can be trouble. Jealousy does terrible things to people."

Delvin wandered closer, oblivious to the deterring gaze that both women turned on him.

"And what are you two lovelies discussing?" he smiled.

"Nothing," Prim hurriedly spoke, sliding from her chair and departing. "Thanks, Sapphire."

* * *

Prim was bored. Until her shoulder was completely healed, no one would give her a job, and it'd been four days since the assassins had been slain. She was beginning to feel listless, and despite Sapphire's advice, did not feel very compelled to take on any of the potential lovers wandering about Riften's market. She sat on the low, stone wall encircling the busy hub, watching people pass by. She was even wearing a more expensive tunic today, a gift from Aela, who'd remember her love for the color blue after saving a merchant from giants. The man had apparently paid in fine clothing, much to Aela's annoyance. In any case, the finery didn't seem to be drawing any extra attention in Prim's direction.

_And why would I want attention? _

She scoffed at her own foolish behavior, and hopped down from the wall, taking to meandering about the stalls. She paused upon spotting Haelga, and studied the woman with a frown. There was a sensual air to the blond, captured by the way her hips swayed while walking, like a beckoning, and how her gaze lingered too long on young men. The woman was beautiful, true, but did she need to scope out every piece of meat to pass her? Probably. Prim thought her idiotic for showing so much neck in the cold air.

_You are being ridiculous, Prim Bleaksnow._

Her mood was not helped by the appearance of Sibbi Black-Briar. He was finely dressed and handsome as always, but held his head too high, just like the rest of his family. She'd heard all about the incident with his former fiancée and the resulting campaign for her head. It was probably best that the poor woman never turned up.

"You're looking lovely today, Prim," Sibbi crooned.

"Thank you," she curtly replied.

This conversation was over. Everyone in the Black-Briar family had a talent for making her feel the need to escape immediately, and he was no exception. The slimy man even had the nerve to touch the fabric of her sleeve with an appraiser's eye. He was so much like the deceitful windbags that had flocked about the king in Daggerfall.

"Very nice," he hummed.

"Your approval means so much to me," Prim leveled, sarcastic.

His eyes gleamed with what, she didn't know, but she wasn't going to spend one more moment in his company. She tried to pull away, but he kept beside her.

"I've been meaning to speak with you more," he mused. "Ever since Maven spoke so highly about you at dinner one night."

_She can go jump in the canal too._

"That's kind of you to say," she chirped. "But I'm expected somewhere. I'm sure we'll run into each other again."

She turned to go, and that's when she felt it. A hand reached out and cupped her ass, giving it an appreciative squeeze. It took every ounce of willpower to not turn around and backhand the man. No, forget backhanding. She wanted to punch him right in the face. Instead, she glared over her shoulder, lips compressed into a furious line.

"I would advise you against ever doing that again," she hissed.

Sibbi grinned and casually displayed his hands with an innocent shrug.

"We'll see."

"Pig," she growled under her breath, storming away.

If only he hadn't been a Black-Briar, she might have cleaned the market street with him, but the guild would frown on that. Mercer had made it very clear that if she ever did anything to jeopardized the guild's alliance with Maven, she would pay. So no physical violence, she decided. She would get everyone in trouble with such antics, but that didn't mean she couldn't do something a bit more stealthy. No one needed to know. Well, no one except Sibbi perhaps. Satisfied, she waited until the man turned in that night, and then, quite silently and using those lockpicking skills that Mercer said were so crucial, invited herself into the Black-Briar residence.

* * *

No more mead. Prim considered the bottle in her hand, and chucked it into Lake Honrich. She stood on the pier, looking out across water beneath the night sky, alone at such an odd time. She'd borrowed a key to relock ever door behind her, so there would be no evidence of tampering or her intrusion into the Black-Briar household. The only sign that anything suspicious had happened would be a missing ring. Sibbi's ring. The silver band was cool against her skin, moonlight catching the gems set along its edge. Sapphires, emeralds, and rubies. The man had expensive taste.

She gripped the ring tightly, unsure what she intended until the lake's depths called to her. She didn't want Sibbi's ring. It would rest at the bottom of the lake, where it belonged, and where no one would ever find it. She threw it with all her might, smiling as a gentle splash sealed its fate.

"What a waste," a voice disparaged from behind her. "That was a valuable piece of jewelry."

Prim sat down on the pier, cross-legged on the planks. How did Mercer already know what she was about? In retrospect, perhaps she'd said a bit too much to Brynjolf at the Bee and Barb before coming here. As amused as the redhead had been, this wouldn't be a simple matter if Sibbi chose to tell Maven. He probably wouldn't for the sake of his pride, but might be just enough of a brat to whine to the woman.

"Valuable or not," she stated. "It's with the fishes now."

"Guild business comes before personal business," Mercer reminded her. His tone was harsh, but then again, it usually was. His boots entered her periphery, and she glanced at them, then upward at the man himself. He was looking down at her, although she couldn't read his expression. "I expect you to remember that."

"Bah," she grumbled. "I haven't forgotten. You haven't seen any more bottles of mountain brew sitting around, have you? You'd think that Maven would have more complicated locks on her home."

"She doesn't need them. No one would be dumb enough to steal from her."

His condescending tone elicited nothing more than a sigh from Prim, who almost felt melancholy as she watched the stars.

"You've been drinking," he noted.

"Just a little."

She leaned out over the edge of the pier, and a hand seized her shoulder, pulling her back.

"People will start thinking we're pathetic if we go around drowning ourselves."

She was too aware of his hand on her shoulder, and was relieved when he removed it. He was clearly annoyed, but not angry, much to her relief. The divines were being merciful tonight to color his mood so benign, although she didn't put any stock in their actual involvement. She'd half expected him to push her _into_ the lake for risking the guild's precious relationship with Maven.

"I'll get away with this," she decided.

"Sibbi would be an idiot to complain to Maven so soon after she put him in jail," Mercer agreed. "He's still on her bad side, and that ring was a present from her."

"Good," Prim grimly spoke, satisfied. "Don't you think it fitting, Master Frey, that someone should be taught a lesson for assuming their wealth untouchable? It's almost insulting that they never consider the possibility of someone targeting them. It makes them vulnerable, and they don't even see it."

"_Now_ you're thinking like a thief."

There was a note as critical as it was approving in his voice, and Prim again looked up at him. He was staring out across the lake, and she almost forgot about him taking her soap for purposes that made her uneasy on their own. Did he think often of finding her naked in snow? His eyes had burned across her body in the washroom in a true leer, but he was a difficult man to read sometimes.

"What did Sibbi do to make you so angry anyway?" he asked.

"He grabbed me!" Mercer snorted, unimpressed. "He grabbed my ass! Right in the market. I blushed red like a...like a tomato!" She ended with an annoyed groan. "Even you have better manners."

"I'm a thief and take what I want. I just happen to have higher standards than Sibbi."

"Oh," she sarcastically drawled. "So that's why you visit Haelga. Now I understand."

"It gets the jobs done," he dismissed.

"High standards my ass," she muttered. "I hope you pay her."

"She's not running a charity anymore than I am. She just happens to prefer a few words to Dibella over coins. The women in the back alley are another story."

"You're impossible," Prim groused. "Do you know that?" He stared down at her with a flat expression, telling her exactly what he thought of her accusation. "You," she emphasized, flustered as his backside flashed through her mead-riddled mind. "You go ahead and visit Haelga all you want. You'd be lucky to have me." Divines, what was her mouth doing? It did _not_ have permission to talk like that. "I bet everyone in the guild would agree."

"I'm sure they would."

His voice was heavy, yet barely above a whisper. She peered up at him, hopelessly trying to determine what he was thinking. She could feel his attention on her face, her hair, and the collarbones that her tunic exposed. He crouched beside her, bringing their faces near eye level.

"You'd best be careful not to encourage anything that you don't actually want," he warned. "I'd never tuck loose hair behind your ears." And there was more than a bit of contempt in the comment.

"You're talking about Brynjolf," she realized, utterly serene as she leaned closer to Mercer. He no longer smelled of lavender, but nor of Haelga. "No, I'd never expect that from you. I don't imagine you're the most gentle of lovers. But then again, I've seen hard men sigh with as much air and want as any other. You wouldn't visit anyone if you didn't crave human touch now and then."

She almost reached out and touched his face, but stopped her hand halfway there.

_Prim, what are you doing?_

"Of course," she added, pulling away, "even if you raise your standards, I'm not about to lower mine."

He smirked and stood.

"No more stealing from the Black-Briars, understand?" He tapped a finger on the top of her head with more force than necessary.

"Yes, sir."

Maybe she liked mead more than men, the insufferable creatures.


End file.
